


Tracking Source Code

by reflectivemuse



Series: The Red and Blue Circuit [2]
Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Intrigue, Romance, Suspense, sequel to Searching For Open Pathway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 16:54:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4713431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reflectivemuse/pseuds/reflectivemuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After receiving a cryptic phone call from Niska, Leo Elster disappears. Mattie recruits the help of Karen, the Synthetic detective created to replace Leo's dead mother and then discarded. The search for their loved one leads them to the United States. But they have to move quickly, before the people behind this begin to eliminate their group one by one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. /enter command/

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tonksbeybey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonksbeybey/gifts).



> The lyrics from this prologue are from the following songs:  
> Holocene by Bon Iver  
> Laura Palmer by Bastille  
> Prosthetic Love by Typhoon

Shepperton, England

Sunset at the Walton Bridge was a tender gold flame dwindling down its way into darkness. There was a subtle beauty to it, to be among the weakest fires, and yet strong enough accept such an end with grace. Because in the final hour of every sunset, that bridge was awash in the sun’s pale rays. In that moment, one could almost feel the hopeful promising of another day, a day in which there would be a sunset that was longer, brighter, warmer.  
Leo Elster looked down into the Thames River and watched the light disappear. His mind took this moment and fit it into song lyrics.

Strayed above the highway aisle  
Jagged vacance, thick with ice  
I could see for miles, miles, miles

It was years since he’d last done this. Staring out from a bridge and welcoming the night. The night was honest to him at least: There was no hope for a better day.

The night was all you had  
You ran into the night from all you had  
Found yourself a path upon the ground  
You ran into the night, you can’t be found

Leo had been listening to more music this past year than he had for the previous twenty-four. And now he couldn’t erase it. Just like he couldn’t erase her.

Each time I wake I’m still alive  
Outlived my expiration date, imagine my surprise  
Some backwards take on a book of Job  
His life was a wager and mine’s a joke  
Give him what he wants, he will never know  
He’s tired of trying to let himself go

Leo had known he would end up here again. The people he loved had other options. Working in disguise, Max was now writing a novel, while Fred was making his pay as a street musician. Meanwhile, Leo had the bridge.

He supposed he had something in common with his surrogate mother, Mia. Despite all her love, she couldn’t legally marry Louis because they were classified as artificial beings. And even if Leo had wanted to marry Mattie Hawkins, he was still legally dead. 

He had no future, and if he’d stayed with Mattie, she wouldn’t have had one either.

A buzz in his coat pocket reminded him he still had a phone with him. Leo looked at the caller ID, fearing it was Mattie, attempting to change his mind.

It was an unidentified caller. Thinking quickly, Leo realised it could have been only one person who would call from an unknown line.

“Niska?” said Leo.

There was static in the background. “-eo…sorry – did something and now -.”

Alarmed, he said, “Niska, what are you talking about? What did you do?”

The voice grew stronger. “They’re after me. I don’t know how to get out –.”

“It’s all right, I can meet you someplace.” Leo struggled to remain calm. He cleared his throat and said, “Tell me where you are.”

“New York,” said Niska.

The static returned with a fierce crackle, and the line went dead.


	2. /welcome guest/

Sunny spring mornings that began with breakfast and a diamond ring on the table were meant for the cinema. When it came to Karen Voss's table, it was spared two glances.

The initial glance came in during the opening of the small jewelry box. Karen looked at Pete Drummond, who was sitting behind his coffee and a plate of dried hash and blackened bacon. 

"Are you serious?" Karen set aside the box and stared through his glasses, into the unanswered question that was showing in his eyes.

After a silence long enough to satisfy a meditative Buddhist monk, Pete finally said, "For God's sake, Voss. I've been living with you for three years now. I've been making my own meals because you don't eat, and the thing in that box there is worth all of that and more. Seems I’d damn well better be serious, don’t you think? What’s so funny?”

An accidental giggle had escaped from Karen. Pete sounded so unintentionally chauvinistic just now that if she hadn’t known him so well, she would have been asking if that statement had its own cock attached to it.

Pete continued, “All I’m saying is that we deserve this, Karen. Well, you more than me,” he corrected. “After all, my divorce from Jill isn’t anything compared to the way that…well, I’m not even sure what you could call Elster. You had it rougher than an ugly mail-order bride – not that you’re ugly, that’s not what I’m saying – .”

She tried not to stare at him as he blundered even further into awkward territory; the last thing she wanted was to put down his earnestness. But even if he refused to acknowledge it, Karen still knew that marrying one another was a mistake. No, she herself was a mistake. Worse than that, a mistake who facilitated other mistakes. Like the death of Dr. George Millican, or the near-destruction of David Elster’s other “children.” How could she possibly deserve a second chance such as this one?

“Stop,” said Karen at last.

Pete closed his mouth at once. 

This is going to hurt, Pete, she thought. Both of us are going to hurt. “I’m not like Jill.”

Pete frowned in confusion. “Not like – hang on, you can’t just compare yourself to an ex-spouse, Voss.”

The voice in her head sighed. It was small exchanges like these that explained how Karen had always been the brain equivalent for her role within their small investigating unit. Logic was easy to her, so taking the accurate steps toward solving a crime was like basic maths. She let Pete be the “muscle.” He was much more effective as the unit’s heart.

“I wasn’t trying to compare myself to Jill, Pete,” she said at last. “I wanted to remind you that if we formalise our union, nothing will change for the better. Jill never had to prove she was a human being. And apart from that– ,” she added, riding over his objections, “The officiators might want to see legitimate proof that I am who I say I am. And I’m not.”

“Believe it or not, I’m actually willing to take that risk!”

“No,” said Karen, cutting the discussion short with pain commonly brought forth by a blunt pair of scissors.

Pete looked downward at his cold coffee, and Karen knew then how much she was crushing him. 

“It was just an idea, that’s all.” He took a long sip from his cup.

The following knock on their door was a welcome excuse for Karen to leave the room. Unfortunately, Pete trailed her footsteps to their door. Ignoring him, she pulled it open, immediately regretting it. A young woman stood on the porch, her hands crossed and folded into the sleeves of her black jumper. Caution was drawn on her face. Pete said over Karen’s shoulder, “Blimey, aren’t you that girl from that family? Hawkins? Madeleine, was it?”

The woman’s guarded expression turned into irritation, and Karen corrected him softly, “Matilda.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, I’m terrible with longer names, aren’t I?”

“That’s probably why I go by Mattie,” the young woman answered. Mattie did seem rather on edge, and Karen could see that whatever reason for which she’d come to see them was of graver importance than her name.

“What is it then, Mattie?” asked Karen. She knew little about the girl or her family. It had been nearly six years since she and Pete had any interaction with the Hawkins family. It hadn’t been Karen’s finest hours. She’d come with a special force team to bring in the Elster Synths, and the Hawkins had been forced to lie on the ground with guns pointed at their heads while the beings that had meant to be her family once were taken away to be destroyed. Later on, they’d been released and Karen was summoned by young Leo Elster to help them resurrect one of their own from irreparable damage with an embedded program. She’d nearly sabotaged it, and only changed her mind when she saw that Leo was dying from her actions.

And now, Mattie Hawkins said at last, “A friend of mine’s gone missing. I need you to help me find him.”

It took only a minute for Karen to surmise the situation. Pete didn’t catch on so quickly, and said, “Well, dear, you’d best be filing a report at the station.”

Mattie suddenly looked distraught. “That won’t work.”

Karen feared she knew the answer before she asked, “Which friend is missing?”

“Leo. Leo Elster,” answered Mattie, with the sound of a poorly concealed quaver in her voice.

Karen pushed Pete slightly back to the staircase to allow Mattie entry inside. Then she said, “How long has he been missing?”

Mattie sniffled. She might have been crying over this for a while. “I dunno, two weeks? That’s when he stopped answering his phone.”

Pete interjected then, “And this didn’t follow a quarrel of some kind, with you or anyone else?”

Karen was wishing then that this man she loved would just shut the hell up when he added, “You’re sure that he didn’t just cut ties and run off?”

Mattie looked downright flustered, and Karen thought that, as tactless as Pete was acting toward the matter, there might have been some truth in his questioning.

“I – it’s not like that! No, he’s gone. Something’s happened to him. He’s in danger!”

Masking her alarm, Karen said, “What makes you say that?”

And then Mattie pulled out her phone and tapped the email icon open. In the email there was a long line of program coding, and it seemed to never end. Mattie added, “I can scroll this forever and still have no idea what any of it is.”

Karen looked at the top line. “Fwd: Decrypt this ASAP. From: Leo Elster. To: Mattie Hawkins. Sent from mobile.”

She could feel the fluid running through her circuits quicken upon reading this. Leo had placed a monumental amount of trust in Mattie Hawkins. But if she couldn’t understand this code, what would happen to him?

“I’m sorry,” said Karen at last, sinking what she knew was Mattie Hawkins’s last hope. “I don’t know what this means any more than you do.”

“But you have resources,” the young woman protested. “You could help me get a lead.”

“What lead? You have nothing. And how am I supposed to look into this with nothing but an email?” Karen felt herself growing angrier and more defensive with each word. What she was saying was the truth, but it wasn’t why she didn’t want to investigate.

Her anger was no match for Mattie’s, however. “He told me about you, you know,” she said though grit teeth. “He thought you still cared about him. Even a little. And he – he cared about you, always wondering what you were doing, whether you’re okay. Well, I suppose he’d be glad to see you doing just fine here!”

Karen’s resolve did not break easily. She never cried. However, the voice inside her head was screaming at her. Hateful, hateful things.  
“I’m sorry,” she said as Mattie turned around and ran through the open door.

Karen looked at Pete again. He shook his head and said, “Who are you?”

“What?”

“I mean, this Leo, he was like a son to you, wasn’t he?”

More like one she’d given up for adoption. Karen brushed past him. “I can’t. He was never mine. He has a family, and they can get him out of this mess.”

Doggedly, Pete said, “That’s not what this is about.” He walked through the door after Mattie, slamming it on the way out.

Sometimes he was more perceptive than she could have expected. Karen went into the kitchen, and spared a second glance at the small box that flaunted the diamond inside. Her glance then went to the ring on her finger. Beatrice’s ring. 

She snapped the box shut and shoved it aside.


	3. /no results/

Mattie was still seething after she'd left her car in the GameBox parking lot. She'd always had her misgivings about Karen Voss, but considered her bias as a result of seeing her for the first time right before a squad of armed men stormed into the Hawkins household to take away Leo and his family. Mattie's little sister Sophie spent the following month waking up in the dark screaming from nightmares, sobbing because there had been masked agents in their house, pointing large guns at the terrified six year old as her beloved Synths were taken away. 

No amount of sympathy Leo had for Voss could change that kind of damage.

Mattie's heart panged slightly as she thought of it while putting on her name badge. Not for the first time, an absentminded distraction then came in the form of wondering whether GameBox would allow her to wear the badge out of the store.

Try getting my name wrong after that, she thought to the whole damn world.

A bell on the door gave a small jingle, and it was time to purse her lips into a smile and greet the customers. A bespectacled bloke she recognised as being a first year on campus picked out a case bearing the title Space Knights and brought it to the checkout counter.

"What do you make of this one?" he asked her.

Mattie didn't even look at him. "Brilliant," she mumbled. Brilliant if your mum still packs your allergy medication for you before school.

But the boy smiled and, rather than handing over the game to purchase, he said, "We go to uni, don't we?"

"I guess."

"So then this is what you do in your time off?"

"Pretty much," Mattie replied, her answer slow with suspicion. "Do yo want to buy that or not?"

The boy looked behind his shoulder to make sure there was no line, and Mattie's stomach felt sick upon a sudden epiphany. 

"I'm Corwin," he now said. 

"Brilliant. I'm Unavailable. Last name is Go Home."

Corwin's face shifted into a leer. "Does your manager allow you to treat all of your customers in this manner, Mattie?"

At least he got her name right. If she hadn't been wearing her name badge, Mattie would have called the police. 

On second thought, her name badge read Matilda. She stared at the boy, horrified.

The door jingled for another customer, Corwin's expression became irritatingly innocent once again.

"So...you had a boyfriend, didn't you? Not that I'd know, I mean, I just come in here a lot and there would be this bloke who'd sometimes be waiting by your car after your shift was...did you break up?" 

Mattie's stomach turned sick. How many times had he seen her meet Leo? And had Leo been as oblivious to them being watched as she had? She kept her eyes up as she reached for the telephone; there was no way she was letting Creepy Corwin out of her site. Then she faltered upon seeing the new face in the store approach.

"Inspector Drummond," she said, her voice going dry.

Corwin took one look at Pete Drummond and, most likely figuring that now was not the best time to stalk someone, cleared his throat and made his exit out of GameBox. Mattie picked up the Space Knights case and passed by Drummond in cold silence.

"Friend of yours?" he asked flippantly.

Where the bloody hell did that little bastard even find Space Knights?

"Possibly. He's aiming a bit higher, though," she said at last.

"Well then. You'd better find your boyfriend before that kid gets the wrong idea."

Mattie froze, her hand about to set Space Knights into a random game rack spot in resignation.

"I'm sorry about what was said earlier. Karen is...complicated."

In spite of herself, Mattie scoffed, "Leo is complicated." Heat rose to her cheeks, kindling her fury, and she continued. "Mia is complicated. So is Fred, and don't even get me started about Niska!" The game case fell to the floor, no longer of any concern.

Drummond didn't flinch. "And the other one? What about him?" he inquired.

She breathed deeply. "Max. He likes Jane Austen and soap operas."

"Ah," Drummond said with an understanding nod.

Just as Mattie was wondering what kind of discussion the detective-inspector was leading into, he said, "Look, it's not going to be easy. There's little to work with, and we may very well turn up with nothing."

But Mattie, who'd spent the past two weeks seeing nothing in the sky but grey, was now feeling a hint of light beaming through the window. "You mean you'll help me?"

Drummond was solemn. "I'll try. Could I borrow your phone for the next twenty-four hours?" 

Mattie immediately ran to her storage box and, without reservation, gave Drummond her mobile phone.

"You're not expecting any important calls, are you? School, work, the young git that's watching us through the shop window?"

Mattie's attention sharply turned up to see Corwin standing across the street.

"I'll be on holiday," she said, now distracted.

"Good." Then Drummond jerked his thumb in Corwin's direction. "I can also take care of him, if you'd like."

It was tempting. However, Mattie's spirit felt rejuvenated, like she'd just made it out of an ice water fountain.

"Thanks, but I'll get around to it myself," she said, her voice somewhat brighter than she could ever remember.

Drummond nodded. Mattie supposed it was his version of smiling.

"Suit yourself. I'll be in touch."

But as he walked to the door, Mattie, being as curious a person as she was, asked, "Inspector? Why are you doing this?"

Detective Inspector Drummond regarded her in surprise.

"Because it's the right thing to do," he said simply.

Then the shop door jingled, and Mattie was alone once more.

***  
Technology had made many more advancements since the first Synthetics were created, but that didn’t mean it was at the point where a missing person could be located through an email. Which meant that Pete Drummond barely had a half-ass of an idea about where to start looking for Leo Elster.

His office had barely changed within the past six years, although the framed photographs of his ex-wife Jill were gone. Karen had refused to allow images of herself up there in Jill’s stead, however. It was just as well; the last thing they needed was attention on their relationship. 

They had done everything right, hadn’t they? They worked quietly together, lived in a nice, affordable home where they could play cards in the evening, meanwhile watching the television for either the news or the football game. They were happy, yet dull. So dull that Pete had been stupid enough to pick out a ring, thinking that a marriage would enliven the relationship.

Maybe I should have given her a dog first, he thought.

Pete sighed and got to work. It was a damn shame Leo Elster was legally dead. Finding someone with a name on record would have been a hell of a lot easier than this. As far as things went, Pete Drummond’s hands were tied.

He picked up the telephone at his desk. “This is Drummond,” he said. “I need to speak to Alice Sparks.”

Alice Sparks wasn’t strictly with the London department. In fact, she wasn’t with any department. She was considered a consultant, at least on the books. Pete had never met her, but he had an aunt very much like her, one whom he’d referred to as Scary Mary as a boy. It was probably because she told him that he’d be a loser in love and never have any offspring. 

Psychics.

Pete thought it best to make the trip downtown to visit Alice at her residence. After all, he was looking into something that wasn’t technically a police case. The woman lived in her building’s highest flat, which Pete suspected had something to do with the clearer access to psychic energy. Or whatever. Like he knew anything about that rubbish.

The door opened, releasing a waft of lavender and jasmine notes, and a young woman with short blonde curls and brown eyes said, “Mr. Drummond, I presume?”

Well, she’s good, thought Pete. He stammered, “Ah – it’s Inspector. Detective-Inspector. Drummond.” Flustered, he added, “You knew I was here already, did you?”

Alice Sparks’s eyes widened. So did her lips, which parted into a smile. “Not at all. I was going to check and see if the post has arrived. Come in.”

He followed her into the flat as she apologised, “This place is a bit of a mess, I know.”

“No worries,” said Pete, taking in the sight of multiple candle sconces, scarves, and a fallen wooden chest of spilled DVDs on the carpet. “I’m sorry I gave you such little time to prepare, Miss Sparks.”

She waved her hand. “It’s fine, Pete. And call me Sparky. This whole thing works better when familiarity is in place.”

Pete frowned. “Yea…all right.” 

She gestured for him to have a seat as she brought out the tea. Pete chose the jasmine – he’d never quite cared for the scent of lavender. They sipped from their cups in a sort silence that felt awkward on his part, until he asked, “Like it this high up in the building, do you?”

Looking slightly confused, Miss Sparks said, “I didn’t choose it. But yeah, I suppose it’s all right. So what are we meeting for?”

Suddenly fearing Alice Sparks’s impeccable reputation was in fact a sham, Pete cleared his throat. “Well, I…I’ve got this.” He pulled out Mattie Hawkins’s phone.

Miss Sparks frowned and leaned in. “What on earth do you want me to do with that?”

Filling up with an emotion that he couldn’t identify as fear or frustration, Pete said shortly, “Well, I got it from a girl. I promised her I’d help find a friend of hers, and this device has the only clue of what happened to him.” To prove his point, Pete unlocked the screen and showed the message that Leo Elster had sent to Mattie.

Squinting, Alice Sparks’s mouth recited the subject line. “ASAP.” She said this, closing her eyes. 

When she looked at Pete once more, he said impatiently, “Well, anything?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m not a computer genius, Pete. That’s not how this works.”

“No, I know that -.”

“I can’t help you with whatever that email is! It’s all gibberish to me, and you should be taking it to a uni or to a hacker or anyone who speaks that language. Not me.”

“Damn it, I don’t care about the bloody code,” snapped Pete, having lost all patience. “Not unless it leads me to the young man who sent that message in the first place. You see, I can’t make it an official case because no one knows about the bloke’s existence except for the girl. Now, I can pay you however much you normally charge for your sevices, but you have to give me something, Sparky. Something real.”

There must have been a note in his impassioned plea that decided the matter for the young woman. She sighed. “Listen, that email – you may regret looking into it, and don’t say I didn’t warn you. But  
it’s not from anyone named Leo Elster. Just someone with access to his account, who wants to draw people into looking for him.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is Elster in danger then? What happens if we don’t find him?”

“He dies,” said Alice Sparks. But there was a hint of subtext embedded in her cryptic tone.

“Is there anything else you know? I need a trail I can follow. Please, Sparky.”

Miss Sparks regarded him with grim curiosity. “I hope that what you’re looking for is worth it, Detective Inspector Drummond.”

Pete recalled his earlier words to Mattie Hawkins. “It’s the right thing do,” he answered. “Tell me where Leo Elster is.”


	4. /page has been moved/

Spending the rest of her shift thinking up solutions for losing Creepy Corwin wasn't ideal, but Mattie had to occupy herself somehow while Pete Drummond might or might not be looking for a lead on Leo's whereabouts.

So she walked through a park near GameBox. She'd come here frequently since starting her job. It was quite nice as far as the air was concerned. As a scent, grass was heavily predominant. Mattie had a coat that smelled like grass on the inside. Making that connection was both pleasant and painful for her, with the pain threatening to win out.

As she approached a small pond, a fair breeze rifled through her hair, whipping the dark brown locks in the direction of her stalker. He was throwing biscuit crumbs past the incoming mallards, obviously hoping they'd follow the food and leave him alone. Like a small army, the little quackers just marched closer to him instead.

Mattie said aloud, "You know, the funny thing is that once you have their attention, they won't leave you alone."

Corwin's head turned and he sprang to his feet in surprise. The ducks flapped their wings back, nearly as startled as he was. Ignoring them for now, Corwin grinned at Mattie. "At least I have fans. Care to join them?"

"I'd make a shite duck, expected to follow all the other ones to the nearest douche with a cracker in his fist," she replied. 

He winced, but after his arrogant comment, Mattie held little sympathy for him.

"Then why are you here?" he asked.

She crossed her arms, evoking a disciplinary attitude."Well, for starters, to tell you that your flirting skills - well, social skills in general, I think - are going to get you arrested someday."

Sounding suspicious, Corwin said, "You mean, the inspector who came into the store earlier?"

"What? No, that was for something else." Taken aback, Mattie hadn't even thought to use Corwin's fear of Drummond to her advantage. She cursed her honest default nature and added, "Look, not that this is going to help you get it, but I should probably just ask anyway. What do you want from me?"

The kid blinked in surprise. "To er...uh, play Space Knights. With me."

Now it was Mattie's turn to be surprised. "Is that all?"

"Something like that," he mumbled.

"Why me?" she demanded now. "Why not any other girl? Someone your own age, or better yet, someone you know?"

"Don't got any of those. Then I saw you on campus and at GameBox. Figured we liked the same things and you were worth the try."

Mattie shook her head. Damn her bleeding heart, she really was feeling a bit sorry for this creep now. "I've got more important things to do than play video games right now, you understand?"

Corwin nodded glumly.

But, unable to stop herself as usual, Mattie said, "So, the thing is this, Corwin. I don't like you. You and I will never happen."

"Great," he said, moving away and stumbling backwards into the line of ducks. He yelped as they quacked at him.

Mattie cringed. Feeling she might regret what she was about to do, she ran forward yelling, "Shoo! C'mon, get out of here you little bastards! Go!"

The ducks didn't retreat or fly away like she'd hoped, but they did step back, apparently considering the threat.

Corwin squinted at her in the sunlight. 

"Don't get any ideas," she warned him. "I'm going to give you some advice and you're going to take it or I will call the police. What's your email?" After a moment of hesitation, Corwin withdrew a ballpoint pen-he had a pocket protector of all things - and wrote his contact information on Mattie's arm.

"I'll be in touch," she said, walking slowly back to her car while the mallards grew bold again and surrounded Corwin.

"Wait!" he cried from a distance. "What's the advice about?" 

Mattie smiled. "Read Pygmalion!" was all she said. Because saying how not to terrify girls before asking them out didn't sound as clever in her head. In the past, it would have been easy to drive away the kid. She would probably have been harsher than that. 

She didn't want to damage the boy now, though. She wasn't about to have the death of anyone's self-esteem on her conscience.

 

In terms of safety and comfort, there was no place like home. Mattie's flat was a technological haven and not much else. Two laptops, a desktop computer, a large flat screen television set from her dad and Blu-ray player to go with it. Her tablet was tucked away in her desk, these days forgotten. Also tucked away - this one not forgotten however - was a small package of decryption software. For a week and a half, it had been lying open next to her laptop, used in a daily attempt to decipher the code from Mattie's inbox. It was now a symbol, a daily reminder of failure, and the reason Mattie dreaded coming home.

Mattie's fingers ran over one of the laptops. He'd left it behind. Before this month, Mattie would have never believed him to be one for leaving anything behind. It hurt like a punch to the stomach, knowing that she was the only thing Leo Elster had ever wanted to cast away. 

But she wiped away the tears stinging the corners of her eyes and opened her own laptop. After she was done typing her email to Corwin, she reread its contents:

 

I'm not going to bother with pleasantries here. Nor will I advise you to change your appearance. I can tell you from personal experience that the girls you are interested in won't really care how fancy you dress or how prettily you part your hair as long as you respect them and treat them well.

The first lesson for the day is to focus on someone who'd be more receptive to your interest. Life is more than just playing a video game. You can meet people anywhere: school, the pubs, online. I've experienced all three.

 

Mattie stopped reading. She bit her lip and shook the coiling sensation from her shoulders. None of her relationships had ended well. Swallowing back the edge of that memory, she added one more thing to her email.

 

The best impression you can make is a genuine one. If I'd been another girl, one of a different temperament, I would probably said yes had you been kinder and not so forward. Of course, I would still have sprayed you with a face full of the Givenchy I have stuffed in my bag if you'd pulled a questionable stunt afterward.

Good luck,  
Still Unavailable

 

She supposed she should have been satisfied after she clicked ‘send’. But, nostalgic with perhaps a hint of masochism, Mattie opened her desk drawer and pulled out the decryption software.

She could still hear herself laughing about it that last Christmas. 

“Are you trying to turn me into a lazy hack?” she’d asked Leo on the sofa, taking a swig of his gin.

His brows had knit together in mock puzzlement as he’d chuckled, “No, of course not! I very much respect that you’re not a lazy hack. I just figured that between school and your job at the store, this could be used as a last resort.”

Mattie raised her eyebrows. “And you’re sure it’ll decrypt anything?”

“Just about,” he promised. 

“You know, I could just use your super-brain as a last resort,” she said slowly, eyeing him with speculation.

Leo’s tone turned cautious. “Well, I can’t always be here to get you out of a fix.”

Then Mattie withdrew a cardboard box of her own. It was small, half the size of Leo’s palm. 

“I don’t wrap things,” she said, shrugging as Leo opened it. 

He stared at the small brass key lying inside it. 

Feeling self-conscious, Mattie explained, “Maybe you can be around to get me out of a fix more than once in a while.”

A noise caught in his throat, a slight aha that spoke volumes for his emotions. “So am I to crash in whenever I want?”

“You could,” said Mattie. “Or you could live here too.”

She couldn’t tell whether the look he gave her was pained because he didn’t want it, or pained because he did. All she knew was that when he said, “Thank you, Mattie,” it meant he was accepting her gift as being under consideration. Regardless, it was good enough for her. He was good enough for her.

The lone tear she’d been fighting to withhold all day finally slipped down her cheek. She shut her laptop down and stood up to grab a banana muffin from the kitchen. She was chewing on one of its walnuts when she heard a knock at the door.

Mattie opened it to find Detective Inspector Pete Drummond in front of her, holding her phone. Too stunned to move, Mattie took her device and stared.

“How did you find me?” she asked stupidly.

“Connections,” answered Drummond. “I just looked you up with the department’s resources. I would have called you, but...”

Mattie nodded. “So you’ve come to tell me you’re giving up?” There was no way he could have gotten any information for the case so quickly, after all.

Drummond glanced at his feet, his glasses slipping down his nose. Pushing them back up, he said to Mattie, “Leo Elster is in the States. Whoever’s got him, they want something from him. And they want you to come to them, so that you can be used as leverage.”

The floor under Mattie’s feet felt like gelatin. Everything inside her was either numb or shocked alive with excitement. “How did you find all this out?” she whispered.

Drummond hesitated. “You might not believe me.”

Mattie opened the door further. “Then come inside and convince me.”


	5. /refresh page or exit/

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

 

It wasn't called the Windy City for nothing, but today Chicago’s pearl grey skies floated still and peacefully against white sunlight. Dozens of skyscrapers that meant to be mountains shot up to the clouds, and in between them were smaller structures. With all of the building confusion, it was the perfect place to blend into the background.

From a fourth-floor view that made watching people on the streets feel like observing an ant farm, a dark-blonde teenager stood behind her suite’s glass door. No one’s attention was drawn by the girl, whose restless pacing looked like one of the more painful ways to leave this world.

She didn’t seem to hear the hands clacking on a keyboard in the same room, or the mild voice that said, “I really hope that the window you’re looking through is showing something appropriate for general audiences.”

Knowing better than to await a response, Omri Levinson directed his focus towards his work again, a part of his attention still ready for any form of answer. He was good at multi-tasking; it was how he did what he did. 

That didn’t mean his skills weren’t without limits. For example, Omri’s brain could explode if he stared at his laptop screen for five more minutes. It would have been a sardonically humorous statement if the fate of the world didn’t have a ticking time-bomb of its own. But there were medical remedies for the first problem; for the second, the shell program was waiting, its line secure and the hour seven minutes past five. Of course, he’d figured half of the scheduled check-ins would turn out like this. But this was the first time he’d been stood up.

Had he been stood up? Checking his watch, he tried the girl again. “Sylver?”

She turned around, the expression in the wide blue eyes younger than her physical age. If it weren’t for obvious reasons, had he been a casting director he would have made Sylver into Sailor Moon. 

From the fascinated way that she was looking at him, she was probably watching the glare of his laptop screen reflect in his glasses. Omri shook his head, though not without affection. He knew that Sylver wasn’t mute, and knew it better than just about anyone. He was barely thirty, not even old enough to be her dad, and yet one of the only two people in her life who could ever understand her like a dad should.

He asked, “What time was the box supposed to be opened?”

Sylver thought about it for a moment. “Today. 4:54 pm.”

His hopefulness dimmed. “So we were on time.”

“Yup.” The girl turned her head back to the glass, letting her breath create a circle of fog on her own reflection. Sighing, he thought, It’s my own damn fault for ignoring her until now. The quieter things got, the further she retreated into Sylver-World.

At the same time, waiting by the sliding door like she was a cat expecting a bird was strange, even for her. Are you okay?” he asked.

She nodded, still facing the door.

“What are you thinking about?”

He met with more silence. Sylver hadn’t always been so despondent…ever since they’d been dragged into their current situation, she’d lost the nickname Silly Chatterbox. Yet for all of her former Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close antics, he’d trade his life in a heartbeat to return them to her.

“I don’t want them to find us,” she said at last.

She’s been vigilant, he realized. So it was his fault after all – she’d been bored earlier and tried to go on her own to the pool, but he’d caught her in time and said they weren’t on vacation, that if they were caught it would be bad. “Remember that level of Metal Gear Solid 2? Where Raiden was caught by Ocelot? Do you remember what happened?”

“Aly found out,” she answered. “She told you that if she could ground you, she would.”

“That’s right,” he looked downcast. In truth, Sylver’s older sister had walked in during an intense cut scene, and watched, glowering as Omri tried to walk Sylver through sixty-something consecutive escape attempts. He hadn’t realized that at age ten, Sylver could become so obsessed with something that each try felt like the first time. He wished he could have left it at that part of the story. “And we couldn’t get out of that level. Game over. That’s what will happen to us if we get captured. Got it?”

He’d meant for her to take it to heart, to be cautious. Not to make her sleep with one eye open at night. “We won’t be here for much longer,” he promised her. Then, finally turning to his laptop in preparation to shut it off for the night, he saw it: a tiny bright green message inside a black window box.

/report: target objective has been confirmed/

Omri breathed deep, both relieved and terrified. His fingers typed clumsily. 

/status?/

It took several seconds of a high-stress waiting game before characters began to fill the box.

/uncompromised. infiltration successful. need estimated mission duration extended/

His heart, which had begun to somewhat relax with the first two statements, nearly stopped at the last one.

/no/

But the comeback was swift, likely prepared before the communication line was even opened. 

/they have leverage. asset has been obtained. maybe days before source code is retrieved/

 

Omri sighed, a coldness searing him from the inside out. He wished to God he could say this wasn’t worth it, it wasn’t worth any of them. But, even though he’d been burned by CIA...he was still CIA. And they were the only ones far enough off the grid to be able to stop this operation before it rose to the surface.

/next time/ he typed, /don’t be late/

 

***  
After his divorce was finalised, there had been a day or two where Pete had needed to reflect over what went wrong. Memories of Jill spotted his vision like ink blots, driving him deeper and deeper into a pit of melancholia. From their first date, he’d been a bumbler. Luckily for him, she’d found it funny…until the accident. She was paralysed, and his love for her turned into stress, then into guilt, into anger, until it was finally enough for her to send him away. At the time, he’d blamed her dependence on Simon. But Simon was a Synth, and not a very interesting one at that.

Still, if he could do it all again…

He’d have decked Simon a few more times.

But as far as silver linings went, as soon as he came home his was waiting for him. She’d always been waiting for him. Karen had played bartender from across the counter, though in retrospect it was uncertain whether she meant to get him drunk, or to only monitor his drinking so that she could cut him off. If she’d been a basic Synth, she would have told him. But she’d only smiled that little smile of hers and said, “Do you remember the week after we were paired at work, we were looking into a Synth-related vandalism case?”

Pete nodded, raising a shot of whiskey to his lips. “I remember those pissers with the bats getting away from us, and me having to take the broken dollies to the scrapper.” Karen raised her eyebrows at ‘dollies’, leaving Pete to bumble yet again. “Uh, sorry, Kay. You know I don’t mean…hold on. That was the night you forgot to drive out and bring me back to the station, wasn’t it?” Only Synths never forget anything, he’d realised.

A mischievous smile played on her lips. “I didn’t always like you, you know.”

“And now, what? I’m your favourite person?” Pete chuckled, coughing from the scotch drying in his throat.

Karen’s eyes were very dark, very bright. When Pete first started working with her, he’d thought her a bit plain for his eyes. However, now that he knew her, felt her, kissed her…it was as if he’d always known she was beautiful, his head had just been too stuck up his arse to think about it.

“My favourite person,” she’d repeated, leaning over the counter to kiss him.

Five years later, now approaching the house he shared with her, Pete felt a pinch in his nerves. He’d left without telling her where he was going, or what he was doing. He had the day off, so clearly he shouldn’t have been at the station. His hands fidgeted with his key as he stuck it into the lock. “What the hell?” he muttered to himself when the lock wouldn’t turn. He tried again, but the door wouldn’t budge. Pete groaned. “Karen!”

His face felt as hot as a sunburn when she opened the door a moment later. “The house key didn’t work.” He held it up as proof.

Karen frowned, taking a closer look. “Isn’t that the key to the car, Pete?”

“Huh?” Pete looked at it again. It was indeed. “Bullocks,” he said under his breath.

Not unsympathetically, she stepped aside to let him in. “Have a fun day at the office, did you?”

“Uhh…” he cleared his throat. “Sorry, I just…?” How does she do that?

“Your friend Sparky called an hour ago. She said she has a name for you, a John Brandt who might be able to help with your case.” Karen folded her arms, reminding him of the way his mum would look when he was young, right before she decided whether to discipline him with a bar of soap or a large wooden spoon. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

Bullocks. “Okay then. It isn’t what you think it is.” Pete had meant it to be funny, but he didn’t like the way Karen laughed at it, too short and high-pitched. 

Rolling her eyes, she said, “Drummond, I’ve met nuns that lie better than you.” 

“Hear me out, Voss,” he entreated, as she began rinsing out the glasses on the countertop. She didn’t express any acknowledgment towards him reverting to using her surname, as he did whenever they were being less than affectionate. “You know I’d do anything for you. And I don’t think you could ever be happy with yourself if anything happens to Elster’s son.”

“And what if something happens to you, now?” she shook her head, resigned. “What are you going to do?”

That was actually a very good question. Pete couldn’t just walk into the station and announce, “A dead man has gone missing. If anyone asks, I’ll be in America.” 

“Got a lead that he’s in the States. I figured I’d take a leave of absence and hop aboard a ship,” he answered at last.

“A ship?”

“Yeah, in case it turns out someone’s waiting for me to come for Leo, I’ll want to take a method of transportation they’re not counting on. At least, that’s the idea.”

“And whose idea is that?” Pete’s lips twitched an inaudible response, so Karen came closer. “Whose idea, Pete?”

“Matilda Hawkins.” He and Mattie had drawn a rough outline for the plan to get himself to the United States. Apart from a cruise ship, the plan involved a fake ID, fake accent, and a wireless Internet connection. Pete didn’t even know if he could figure out the last one, let alone all three.

“And this…lead,” Karen continued. “Did Sparks provide it for you? Because, really Pete, a psychic? Come on, Drummond, use your head.”  
This put Pete on the defensive. It wasn’t as if he’d called Miss Sparks up for his daily horoscope! In fact, there was absolutely nothing wrong with what he wanted to do. Nothing wrong with it except for Karen Voss.

He told her, “Even if you didn’t care to find the boy, there is still that one, extremely distraught girl who does. And seeing as how I’m the only side of the law that would be interested in helping her, I should do it. Hell, Voss, it’s the reason I became a detective in the first place! What’s yours?”

Karen Voss put the last glass away, a wary expression on her face. As she left the room, Pete called after her. “I’m still your favourite person, aren’t I?”

***

Mattie couldn’t sleep for half the night. The psychic told me that if no one came for Leo, whoever’s got him will kill him.  
She didn’t believe in psychics – at all. But she also believed in being safe rather than sorry, so Mattie tried her best to envision Drummond coming home triumphantly, Leo safe and well. And happy to see her, perhaps. But it didn’t play convincingly enough in her mind, so she closed her eyes and, hazed by exhausted thinking, dreamed she was a child – maybe eight or nine. Her parents had taken her to Hyde Park for a picnic, but she wandered off when she spotted a giant blue balloon tied to a canvas tent. Her eyes couldn’t look away from the balloon. It was a saturated colour, like the blood of a Synth. Exactly like the blood of a Synth. Her hand caught the string, and she began to lift. At first, she smiled, free and bright as the sun that she was floating up to meet. Then Mattie saw the ground and panicked. She was going high – way too high! Desperately, she gripped the string and looked up at the balloon. It was shifting to another colour – purple, then red. Red.

Mattie woke up gasping. Fear grasped her and wouldn’t let go - she couldn’t let Detective Inspector Drummond travel to the United States without her. He didn’t know anything about technology. He didn’t know Leo. If she didn’t have a hand in this rescue, she would never see him again. All of that scared her…and she also hated heights.


	6. /rebooting memory cache/

The curtains in Mattie’s flat revealed their cheap quality before sunrise – yet the light filtering through the curtain was still a soft sort of bluish colour that gently pulled her to life. Just as well, because she had an extensive task list to take care of.

Firstly, she had to beat Drummond to making the arrangements. Otherwise, he’d leave without her, and as exciting as an unaccompanied journey with possible assassins waiting on the other side sounded, she would have enough trouble just driving on the right side of the road.

Interestingly, she found herself more concerned about informing her professors at Leeds she’d be going on holiday than she was about telling her boss at GameBox. It hadn’t been clear to her until now just how much she disliked her job. As she was sending a brief message to Corwin informing him she’d be traveling abroad indefinitely, though, she thought wryly, There’s always a career as a dating advisor. Just so long as I don’t give class on how to pay attention to the signs that someone’s ready to run off and get themselves taken by abductors. Do I look like Liam Bloody Neeson?

After that, with her laptop resting open on the table beside her phone, Mattie raised her hands to practise her art. They froze, reluctant to go down the path of such a felony. Recoiling, then flexing out to try again – this was going to drive her head mad. “Just a warning, Leo Elster,” she said aloud for motivation. “After you’re rescued and the brilliant goddess that is your girlfriend is arrested, you will get her out of it. Otherwise,” she added, taking a sip of her coffee before setting the cup down, “I am a master black-belt in cyber voodoo. I can curse any website and make you see ghosts in your damn cereal.” She said all of this with fingers picking up the pace on her keyboard, the energy in them electric and only stopping once her entire uni fund was drained on cruise reservations and alternate identification.

He can pay me back later, she thought, though much too worried to be even the slightest bit annoyed. Mattie was just considering some of the other useful things she’d need once she arrived in the United States when a humming noise vibrated from her phone.

Unknown caller. Mattie’s heart quavered in spite of herself, in spite of knowing who it couldn’t possibly be…

“Mattie Hawkins?” A woman’s voice.

Disappointment and shame at the disappointment dropped Mattie’s soul down three levels, leaving her voice behind for half a moment.

“…Y-yes?” she finally answered.

“Hello, Mattie, this is Alice Sparks. Pete Drummond came to me on your behalf.”

The psychic. For some reason Mattie’s mouth was very, and it took her another moment to respond. “How did you know how to reach me? Did you just use your crystal ball or -.” 

“I just have connections with the police department’s resources, my dear,” said the woman, her voice sounding rather like a dreamy sigh. Mattie wondered what Alice Sparks put in her tea to get that way. “I left a message for Pete recently, but I was reluctant to add this one final piece of advice with the woman who answered the telephone. I thought you might be able to do the honors.”

“What’s the message?”

“Well, I gave him the name of a potentially interested third party, and I can give you a number to contact him by, but he’ll need some convincing. A password of sorts, at least.”

Mattie, who had been roaming around her flat to let out her nerves, came to a notepad lying under a small lamp. She picked it up, grabbed a pen, and said at once, “I’m ready.”

 

****

If the point of making it into America under the radar was to avoid greeting Leo’s kidnappers with “Take me to your leader”, Mattie was sure she was going to do a spanking good job of it. She never had been one to half-ass something. Even when she failed in primary school she made sure she failed enough to be worthy of a headmaster’s glare.

But Pete Drummond didn’t know that about her, so she took a definite satisfaction in going to his house and letting him stand with the door creaking behind him, as he tried to figure out why he thought he recognised the young woman with rich auburn curls, her pendant necklace and ivory cashmere jumper walking her appearance directly out of Glamour magazine.

“Alright, tell me what you’re selling then, so I can send you over to the buggers across the street.”

No wonder he’d bought Karen Voss’s human charade for so long. However, in all fairness the shades on her eyes were a bit dark. Mattie took them off.

It was impossible to measure which of his facial features drew tighter together, the eyebrows or the mouth.

“Detective,” said Mattie pleasantly.

Drummond cleared his throat. “Blimey – it’s not Halloween is it?”

“No,” she said, pulling a set of passports out of her bag. “But if it makes you feel better, yours is photoshopped.”

 

Before Drummond could ask, Mattie handed him his passport, false identification, and cruise ship reservation ticket.

“No,” he said plainly, eyeing the identification photo with contempt. “No, no. Hell – I don’t even own a bloody bowler hat, girl! What are you playing at?”

Mattie, confident in her footing for this argument, said patiently, “What does it look like? We’re doing this together! Why not?” she demanded as he shook his head.

“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. Leo Elster is obviously a lucky guy to have you fighting for him. But you’ve got to let me do my job, now.” Drummond bit his lip, looking like he’d rather stop himself from saying anything less sensitive.

To hell with sensitivity. “Detective, please. I get that I don’t have any legal authority to help you. But you need me. You can’t do this alone.”

The man sighed, then snapped his fingers. “Let me see yours, then.”

Mattie handed over her passport.

Drummond looked over it. “This is well done,” he approved begrudgingly. “I can’t even tell this isn’t a legitimate document.”

Considering that Drummond couldn’t even tell that Mattie was Mattie a few minutes ago, this brought little reassurance. Then he read the name on it. “Marnie Bond?”

Mattie shrugged, the name being a private joke between Leo and herself.

“You have to work though?” guessed Drummond.

At that Mattie rolled her eyes. “Not like it’s for the Prime Minister.”

He returned the passport to her. “Just so we’re clear, get caught doing any of your HeadHacker stuff and I won’t vouch for you.”

She nodded, refraining from the sorely needed correction of HeadHacker.

Drummond eyed her, as though looking for something else to say. “That necklace looks expensive,” he finally remarked, then went back into his house.

Feeling cold all of a sudden, Mattie turned back to find her car. Then she kept walking, forward and onward until she reached a park. The sting of small tears threatened her eyes.

She sat down on a bench and shut them tightly until her head cleared.

It seemed like ages ago that she’d first come back to Leeds from Switzerland. The trip had taken its toll on her, but what did so even more was missing him. She tried to get in touch with him on Skype for weeks, tried to find an online chatroom for him even longer, until she had to face the truth: Leo Elster wouldn’t be coming for her. 

Time moved haltingly slow afterwards, but it still went on. In the spring, Mattie liked to move her feet around the unclipped stretch of grass that surrounded her apartment. It was good exercise, plus it had helped her deal with certain aggravations. It helped her to unlock the Mattie Hawkins that had once been the personality by default. That Mattie could go at least half a day without holding any human conversation. She’d go to the supermarket and have her eye drawn towards articles about how it was possible to hack someone’s Synth’s system to accept feedback from unknown sources and control it, and not think dryly, been there, done that, don’t even think about it.

There was a time before she knew what it was like to love someone enough to want to jump out of a crashing car, kiss in the pouring rain, and wait through each hour for when she’d get to do it all over again.

There was a time before she knew Leo Elster.

It seemed frequent, how every day she was feeling a little more lost, unrecognisable, like a penny you’d pass with Queen Elizabeth’s face crushed to the dirt. 

And then she heard amidst her thoughts, “Matts!” The voice had boomed after her while she was staring across the street, at a man and woman between her age and her parents’ age, merely holding hands, walking on sunshine incarnate.

Times like these were always made better by the sudden guest appearance of a cheating ex-boyfriend.

Groaning, Mattie turned her feet, but Michael moved towards her with all the grace of a jackrabbit. He only stopped bounding at two feet in front of her.

“How’s tricks?” he asked, a guileless buoyancy emanating through him.

“They were better forty seconds ago.”

Michael’s expression sobered. “I can’t blame you. I know I hurt you pretty bad, didn’t I?”

Mattie raised her eyebrows. “How’ve you and Rebecca been doing, anyway? On your own, of course,” she added, breaking into his hesitation. “I heard you two split after a month.”

Shame blinked behind Michael’s eyes. “Yeah, we did. You were right about her music collection. The more I think about it, you were right about most everything.”

 

Where was this apology leading, to forgiveness? To the reparations of a failed relationship? Whatever it was, Mattie had seen the film and didn’t care for the ending. But because curiosity had to be claimed as her sin, Mattie wanted to know something before she yelled cut. “What was it, then? One day you wanted me more than anything, then you didn’t. Michael, you went and turned me from Cosette into Eponine.” His jaw was dropping too slowly to answer, so Mattie accelerated, “And now you think it’s okay to show up and try to put us back together?”

“No,” said Michael simply. Above him, a cloud drifted off and brightened the sunbeam over his head. It was much too bright, in fact, and it made Mattie feel tired by just looking at him. “I want to put us right. Not together, not again.”

That statement should have made her feel better…but all she felt was a despairing ache, from she didn’t know where. “It wasn’t me, though,” she said to him. Mattie hated this game she was playing lately, guessing the truth and then confirming. She may as well have become a Synth. At least their guessing was spot on.

Michael frowned – why was he frowning? thought Mattie, rife with the emotions that ran within her deeper, darker. “It wasn’t all you,” he said at last. “To be honest, it seemed like you wanted an out.”

“That’s not true!”

“Wasn’t it? C’mon Matts, you know you didn’t like it. You were all good with fixing up our old game consoles and snogging in between ice cream confessionals, but beyond all the sorority antics you were maybe just built to be alone.”

This shocked Mattie fast and painfully, like being snapped in the face with a rubber band. Before she could even reply – or cry – Michael shook his head wistfully. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I shouldn’t have hooked up with Rebecca…but why did you let me?”

Once he was done and walked off, the tears burning in her eyes slipped out. Each step was another point of ouch – why did tears in themselves have to be painful? Wasn’t the causing incident cruel enough?

Upon getting back up to her room, she’d slammed the door and the back of her head against it. Mattie hated this feeling. She was weak, she was angry, she was lonely…

Maybe you were just built to be alone.  
She slid down to the floor, her head by the door knob. 

VMMMM a sound buzzed next to her. The vibrating mode of her phone – Mattie had forgotten, she’d left it plugged into the outlet by the door. Probably Sophie, she thought hopefully. Sophie could at least remind Mattie who was once the best badass sister in the world. Once a badass...

She didn’t look at the caller ID before she answered, a strain still in her voice. “Hello.”

“Hi. Miss me yet?” Leo’s voice was lighter than Mattie had remembered it ever being.

The breath in her lungs stolen, Mattie was unable to answer right away.

“Mattie? Are you there?”

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” she said softly.

Leo paused. “Are you alright?”

The two things Mattie needed to talk about, the things she didn’t want to talk about at all, were the issues of his absence and Michael’s crushing remarks. But without those options, what was she to say?

Fortunately, Leo seemed to know, so he took care of the first one for her. “Look, I know I haven’t been answering your messages. I’m sorry if you were worried, there’s just been a lot of stuff to take…”

His voice, as welcome as it was, diminished into whispers excuse excuse maybe you were built to be alone.

“I don’t want to be alone!” she said in a sudden, strangled cry.

For a second, she couldn’t hear Leo’s voice, and wondered whether he’d hung up. “Leo, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice shaking. “Leo?”

She looked at her phone. Call ended 1:01

The sound of a fist rapping on her door startled Mattie. She didn’t want to see anyone, be they neighbor, milkman, or asshat ex-boyfriend. Then, on second thought, she decided, turning the door knob, she’d very much like to clock that last one.

But when she opened the door, she saw Leo, standing there, holding his phone up as though it were some enigmatic explanation for everything. “I was trying for a more inspired reunion,” he said, awkward yet amiable. Then he saw the tears in her eyes, the red in her cheeks.

“What happened?” he said, moving to wipe her lashes.

“Nothing, it’s stupid,” she mumbled. But she told him about Michael anyways, and stressed, “This isn’t like me, I swear. I’ve just had loads of shit on my mind, and then this…now you’re here.” She sucked in some air, remembering that the last time she played the guess and confirmation game, she’d lost miserably. But still, she wanted to ask him…

Before she could dare, however, Leo held out his other hand, the one without the phone. This one held something else, something shiny and delicate. Mattie stared, her gaze stuck to the crystal pendant as though it were made of ice. It had been a gift to her, given by Nicole, a woman who in her own way had been a gift for Mattie. She remembered the night Nicole had fastened it around her new friend’s neck and asked to not be forgotten. 

Later Mattie had given it to Leo, telling him that when he was ready he would return it to her. And here it was. Here he was. “I don’t want to be alone either,” he’d said now, his tone hoarse and husky, as he stepped into the threshold and placed his warm mouth on hers.

And now, Leo was gone once more, but the necklace was still hers. Mattie touched it with her thumb and index finger, feeling the smooth glossy texture and the nibs on the cut edges. This pendant had to mean something in the greater context of her relationship with Leo. Her heart refused to believe otherwise.


	7. /searching registry/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time?  
> Uhrm yes, yes I know.  
> Hopefully the coming chapters make up for your wait.
> 
>  
> 
> *I absolutely had to show my Light Princess love here.*

SOMEWHERE IN THE U.S.

One Week Later

 

Inside a warehouse that shamed the national football fields back home, Leo thought that he was finally getting used to the dark. Everything was shifting in his eyes from pitch black to a bluish-gray, which made the chains strapping him to his chair seem less daunting. At least he could identify them for what they were. One thing he couldn't seem to get used to, however - no mater how he stared and tried to rationalise, was her. She just didn't seem right to him. She was either too tall or her eyes were too fair a green. Of course, Leo could have been imagining things - he was becoming very good at it. Yet she was there when he woke up, when he slept, and when they fed him. She was called Lexus, and the only times he didn't see the hyperconscious Synth was when they put him under. 

When Mattie showed.

"Leo, look at me," she whispered to his side-turned face.

As comforting as it had been for the first few times, Leo knew what she was by now. She didn't smell like Mattie, or talk like Mattie. "Try coming back with some more meat," he muttered, a high note of derision ending on a chuckle.

"I already told you I'm not real," vision-Mattie's voice coaxed, soft and patient. "I'm just trying to help you get through this."

Instead of looking at her, Leo closed his eyes and let his voice drawl. "Help me how?"

"Well…how about, what's the most exciting thing you did before your father disappeared?"

In spite of himself, Leo's mouth stretched with a smile. "You really want to know?"

"I don't exactly have a lot else to do." The comment was so droll, so  _Mattie_ , that hallucination or not, Leo had to regale her.

"There was the time Max convinced us to sneak out to the London Theater for his birthday." He wasn't sure why the recollection made him feel particularly delirious, but he spoke with the feeling of a sun in his heart. "This is all true, I assure you. Fred and Mia led us, as our sort of parent-standins. We went back stage and watched the theater rehearse for a show." The more Leo spoke, the more he felt alive and present in this memory, as though he were watching as Fred got caught by the stagehands. The feeling that they were going to be thrown out, or even arrested, had hung over all of them. Then Mia had made the observation that their promotional art was not doing the show justice. She claimed to the director that her owner had sent her on his behalf with some ideas for the pamphlets and posters. 

Looking back now on how easily the ruse had been bought, Leo realised that it was possible the crew had seen the Synths for what they were, but Mia using her artistic talent to render an invaluable service to them had won them over. 

"They were so grateful we got to stay for the dress rehearsal," Leo whispered, the conversation sapping what little energy he had. "It was a musical."

"What was it called?" asked vision-Mattie. He could feel her now, almost as though she were leaning on his shoulder.

He murmured,"The Light Princess," before finally succumbing to the warm darkness of his dreams.

 

 

From another room, a handful of scientists and Synths leaned over a computer screen. A Synth dressed in slacks and a bomber jacket repeated,"The Light Princess." He turned to a middle-aged woman with a bird-thin frame and straight wheat-brown hair. "Dr. Rhodes, I can retrieve all data pertaining to both the story and the musical."

Rhodes pinched her glasses and sighed. "That won't be necessary, Bentley. There was no reaction in the vitals to reflect anything significant."

One of the other scientists, a young man barely older than Leo Elster, said, "Doctor, I'm reviewing the record - there is one small spike at the beginning."

"Find out what caused it," said Rhodes at once, sharp.

A few clicks later on the computer and the audio played with a graph on the bottom of the screen. " _\- sneak out to the London Theater for his_ _birthday_."

 _Birthday,_ the young scientist played again. They all noticed it that time - a red line drawing upwards on a moving graph.

"So part of the source code is a birthdate," breathed Rhodes. She whipped her head to the back and asked a dark-skinned Synth with a tablet, "How long before it's safe to put him under again?"

"The drugs we induced him with will be cleared from his system in seven hours," the Synth announced, her tone an automatic clip. She was as conscious as the rest of them, yet neither she nor anyone unveiled any concern over their prisoner's well-being.

Rhodes nodded. Then she looked at the Synth next to the other ones, a tall, blonde-haired model that could easily pass for human. "Chrysler is set to make contact at last. Are you ready to meet him, Lexus?"

Lexus, her best and brightest, always knowing exactly what Rhodes wanted and how to get it for her. Well, except for Niska Elster, but they didn't really need her after all.

The Synth blinked in acquiescence, her face otherwise empty and cold. "Will my associate need a firearm, Doctor?"

Raising her eyebrows, Rhodes said, "No need for excessive violence. Kill the detective, bring the girl in alive at most. No loose ends."

"Consider it done," replied Lexus coolly and walked out of the observatory.

 

ENGLAND

 

Although she still wasn't used to it, every now and again a memory would float like a snowflake to the front of her thoughts. And, just like a snowflake, it was both beautiful and chill-inducing.

 _You've got Fred's strength,_  the voice remembered. _You have Niska's darkness. And you want to know things, like Max._

 

Karen sat on her bed, the war between pain and joy a torture to her circuitry. The cordless phone was sitting in its charger behind her. And she was very aware that it was, the same way that she was aware of the utter emptiness around her. Only nothing felt empty - instead of a hollow void, this ache was as solid as plant or furniture, shouting at her to get rid of it. _Bring back the air and the light_ , the walls sang to her. _Bring back Pete_. 

And Leo. Unblinking, Karen stared at the television in front of her, her own reflection stationary within the onyx screen. What was it playing at anyway, just doing nothing?

 _I didn't give birth to Leo,_ she thought, the defense prickling her conscience. A conscience that was made, not born; love for a child that was made, not born. If everything about her was synthetic, did that invalidate her need to abide by these things? Or maybe...

Maybe following such concerns would be what made them real?

She reached back for the telephone. Who would be best to call?

One of the last conversations she'd ever had with Leo had made her feel simultaneously human, Synth, and briefly happy to be both. When she asked to compare her to Mia, she'd expected a block. She was nothing like Mia, who had been created to love Leo, and unlike Karen bore no internal struggle over the validity of that love.

But Leo had smiled at her, hopeful.  _You care. About me._

_You're right. God help me, I do._

Karen punched in a telephone number and raised the top of the cordless to her ear. "Hi, Alice, this is Detective Karen Voss. You recently helped Detective Drummond track down someone no longer in the system. I was wondering…could you do the same for a conscious Synthetic? Yes, I'll hold on for it, thank you…"

Pete was already off galavanting in America with Matilda Hawkins. Between chasing after them and getting Leo to safety, Karen figured there would be strength in numbers.

It was going to be an interesting family reunion, to say for sure.

 

 


	8. /copy and paste/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to meet Pete's contact, Mattie hears from Corwin and makes a breakthrough on where Leo could be. Meanwhile, Omri is forced to a desperate measure when his black ops team demands he relocate.

THE TEXAN BORDER

 

 

_It was summer when I saw your face_

_Looked like a teenage runaway_

_Oh God I never thought we'd take it that far_

_Some killer queen you are_

 

_Now I'm running and I can't stop anywhere I go_

_I think about it everyday and night I can't let go_

_Man I'm never the same_

_We were shot gun lovers_

_I'm a shot gun running away_

"You doin' alright now, Mattie?" Detective Drummond asked inside their compact rental car, turning the wheel with no trouble remembering to stay on the right side. Mattie didn't answer. Soft synth pop had never been within her musical taste range, but where a normally innocent, buoyant tune such as Bleachers' "Rollercoaster" would have been drowned out by her own thoughts, it now was a tidal wave that left her thoughts scrambling for safety. She supposed that when you were in love and heartbroken and scared, music was just meant to do that. However, she hadn't been prepared for it because she'd been so preoccupied before, and now that it had been four days of just herself, alone in the car with nothing but Pete and her mind, every song might as well have been as melancholy as Tove Lo's "Habits." Which, incidentally, had played over twenty times by this point.

She sighed loudly and checked the email on her cellphone. Something from Corwin. Breathless and incredulous, Mattie opened it.

_Still Unavailable -_

_I kept thinking the numbers in that code you got had a common denominator and - I only know this because I tried to track a girl from the States once - the set of three numbers before the letters are all area codes for different parts of the country._

_There are four that I could tell -_

_718 - Manhattan New York_

_312 - Chicago Illinois_

_530 - Oakland California_

_480 - Phoenix Arizona_

_Hope that helps!_

_P.S. I read Pygmalion. It sucked._

 

Filled with a sudden, eternal gratitude for Corwin's stalking skills, Mattie was swelling from the excitement. Stepping off the boat, Mattie had made the decision to share Leo's code with Corwin, reserving the majority of the details on an as-needed basis. Mostly because he was a nobody that wouldn't be a blip on any shady kidnapper's radar, but it turned out he also was quite the impressive hacker himself, and Mattie need a fresh set of eyes. Eyes that weren't likely to cry in frustration if they couldn't puzzle it out.

Something about one of the codes struck her, though. Leo had confided in her once that his father had called him from New York - Manhattan, if her damnably rusty memory served her right. A coincidence - too much of a coincidence?

"Detective -," Mattie began.

"Pete. I'm not an officer of any kind out here, we may as well be familiar."

Fair enough, she thought. "We're about to pass into Texas - what was the address you got from that John Brandt?"

"Phoenix, Arizona," replied Pete, as buoyant as the song that was ending. 

Mattie stared out her window for a moment. The patches of sage brush poking out of the sun-bleached dirt ran past her in an endless line. Somewhere, either in Texas or Arizona, that line was going to end.

"I think," she said, "we're heading into a trap."

Pete frowned. "Now, hold up. You can't just say stuff like that while I'm driving." When Mattie didn't respond, he added, "What makes you think that?"

"David Elster, for one. His last known location was in Manhattan. A city I found in the coding from my email."

"David Elster? Dead David Elster?"

Mattie sighed. Of course he wouldn't know. "We found out he was alive. Living in New York."

"And New York was mentioned in the code." Pete sounded skeptical.

"Along with Illinois, California…and Phoenix."

He shook his head. "Bloody hell, girl. When did you figure this out."

"Just now," she admitted. "Four different area codes, hidden in one line. They had to have been planted by the people who took Leo."

Pete was silent for a long stretch of road. "If they were planted," he said at last, "then we're headed in the right direction. I say we take our shot with Brandt, on our guards and ready to run. How does that sound to you?"

 _Like we're gonna die_. Like it or not, though, this was their only lead. Mattie just hoped it wouldn't be their last.

 

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

 

Over a mile above ground level, Omri was lying on the black carpet of his hotel room, his eyes seeping tears and tongue tasting bile. There was nothing quite like starting the day off with a mind-blowing seizure.

Sylver had woken after an hour of it, finding him writhing. God, it had been so long since he'd gone through this, she'd forgotten the steps for the emergency procedure. But at least she remembered the case.

"Good girl," he groaned as she opened it. Normally, this was the part where the day was saved and they both went on to eat pizza and play Halo. But instead, Sylver sat there by him in uncertainty. "There is no more," she said at last.

Omri winced. "Phone," he demanded through clenched teeth. The girl got up, and returned to him with a burner cellphone for his shaky hand. Once he dialed, knew there was no going back. But he did anyways, because he also knew that Sylver wouldn't last five minutes without him.

"What is it?" asked the female voice on the other end.

"Request extraction," he said, still biting the inside of his mouth.

"You mean Alaska? You want to terminate the mission?"

"No, not that," he choked out. "Us. Me, the girl."

"What's happened?"

If he weren't so damn sick, Omri might have died from the mortification.

"I'm out of injections."

A long pause met this admission. He was beginning to wonder if he could still hear at all when the voice came back with a crackle. "Look, we can send someone for more of that. But you're going to need to get out of there and meet her. Go to the safe house in Mesa. That's where she'll be."

The words nearly breaking his brain, Omri struggled to remain calm. "What? I can't go that far…not like this."

"It's either that or we pull the plug on all of it. You can check into an actual hospital, go back to life as a private citizen. Omri, we just don't have the resources to spread out for you. We're not CIA."

Upon hanging up, Omri bit his dry lip, thinking. Here he was, epilepsy at its worst, required to transport both himself and an autistic teenager across the country. Meanwhile, Sylver, still by his side, waited. All she ever did was wait.

"Hey Silly," he whispered, fearing his next words. Sylver's big blue eyes, however, showed no fear. "Do you remember when I showed you how to drive a stick shift."

Of course she did. Seeing the hint of a nod out of his bleary eyes, Omri asked, "How far do you think you could take us?"

 


	9. /dumping from hard drive/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Karen, Mia, and the other Elsters are formulating a plan to save Leo, they realize Mattie and Drummond are headed into danger.
> 
> The girl and the detective knowingly follow an enemy agent for answers, but only one of them will get out of it again.

NEW YORK

Years ago, when Karen had been no one and nothing more than Beatrice Elster 2.0, her life truly started in the forest. She'd failed to please David, failed to make it on his team of super-Synths. And he'd failed to scrap her. So she walked through the wood. To a human, all the trees would have looked the same. Beatrice, the real Beatrice, would have faded fast from exhaustion and hunger. But her synth copy made it out of the forest at a 2% charge.

In a way, she was back where she started now. Only this time, she wasn't alone. 

The forest outside New York City didn't daunt the other synths, fortunately. They too had spent their fair share of time in the woods. But they all had an advantage now that was absent before. Karen began to hand them out - white plastic thumb drives.

"I took these from the department," she explained to them, ignoring the rattled nerve of addressing her almost-family. "We're issued to use them for reviving the synths we pick up on the streets. Portable chargers."

After giving one to Fred and another to Max, Karen stopped in front of Mia. "You'll need to share," she said, eyeing Mia's companion. 

Karen hadn't been expecting the addition of Louis, and since Sparks hadn't been able to locate Niska, Karen had miscalculated and was now one charger short.

"I do not mind sharing," said Louis, eliciting a little smile from Mia. Karen couldn't imagine how it worked between them. Was this how Leo wound up on his own and captured in America?

As though he was tuned into her thoughts, Fred spoke up. "What information do you have on Leo's whereabouts?"

Karen hesitated. To be honest, it was only everything Alice Sparks had told Pete. And she didn't even have Mattie Hawkins's phony email code. "All I know," she said at last, "is that a man using the name John Brandt has made himself available for contact about it."

Louis looked between them all. "There is nothing more?" A mask of subtle agitation flashed over him. Karen couldn't blame him.

Everyone else, on the other hand, began to speak in rapid turn.

"Have you spoken to this John Brandt?"

"Which of your sources provided that name?"

"How do we find him?"

If Karen could have sighed, she would have. So this was what she'd been missing, being apart from the Elster synths. She couldn't say she was sorry for it. "I have not reached Brandt. Our department's psychic consultant gave me the name, but I'm not convinced it is a reliable source. Which means we have nothing, I fear."

"Because it is on the word of a psychic," mused Fred. "Is it at all unusual to use the services of one in your profession?" There was the expected, albeit reasonable, cynicism in his otherwise neutral expression.

With Max, however, intrigue reflected in his brilliant green eyes. "Actually, if you have read extensively on the matter as I have, a psychic's brain waves are highly sensitive, making them receptive to information otherwise considered unobtainable. The psychic could be trustworthy."

It couldn't be helped; her system tuned with humor at Max's open mind. He was always her favorite. "I trust the psychic," she announced. "However, I was also warned that there would be people out there intending to compromise our goal. There is a chance Brandt is an alias, or at least the name of someone with an agenda against us. I'd prefer not to reach him."

Mia turned to her, carefully devoid of criticism, even though Karen could still feel it. "Where do we start?"

"Pete," she answered, the reply automatic. "We get in touch with him, rendezvous, and take a look to make sense of Mattie Hawkins's code."

This plan, weak as it was, seemed to appease the masses. Except for Louis, that was.

"Will Peter and Matilda not be looking for Brandt?"

"Of course not. They…" Karen froze. With so much on her mind, the possibility of Pete being stupid enough to go after a shady contact had not been there. But now...

But of course he was stupid enough. The last time she saw him, he'd been trying to unlock the house with his car keys.

Karen took her cellphone and hit the speed dial number. "Kay?"

She wanted to cry with relief. "Pete! I'm here in the States. I've brought Elster's other Synths, just give me your location and we'll come out -."

"Oh, that's nice, love." Pete's voice was oddly strained. "Yeah, don't you worry about dinner. I won't be home for awhile yet."

"Pete -."

"You know me, dear. Can't drop a case til I crack it first. Yeah, I'll call you back. Love you." The click of the ended call struck like a punch.

Karen looked up to the inquiring stares of Mia, Fred, Max, and Louis. Here in the forest, she'd felt in her element. But now she'd never felt so cold, nor so lost.

"I think we're too late," she said.

 

ARIZONA

 

three hours earlier

 

The closer she got to Phoenix, the more Mattie wanted to run from it. Her mind scoured for options, settling on one she hadn't let herself consider until her moment of desperation. 

"What about Iroh Pliskin?" 

"Come again?" Pete squinted at what Mattie thought looked like a bug on the windshield. He wasn't doing so well in the dry heat. At night they'd stop at cheap motels and drink water, then catch some sleep. But the sun always came back early, and it didn't agree with Pete. Mattie wondered privately if he'd ever traveled outside of England before.

"Iroh Pliskin," repeated Mattie. "It's another name the psychic gave me."

"Sounds fake."

"Well yeah, obviously."

"Then why would you rather go with that one over the other?"

"Because," Mattie pressed, "Iroh Pliskin is probably an avatar." Then she jumped, startled because Pete had swerved their half-fueled car into a gas station parking lot.

Once they were parked, Pete slumped his forehead on the steering wheel. Alarmed, Mattie said uncertainly, "Detective…?"

Pete shook his head and straightened back up. "Blimey," he muttered. "Maybe I should forget ever going to Disneyland." With a dry chuckle, he said, "So, this new fellow's an Avatar. Like, blue. And with a tail."

Mattie rolled her eyes. "Not like the film, Pete. I mean a gaming avatar." Pete looked at her blankly, and Mattie knew she was going to be next in line for slamming her head into the steering wheel. "I think - no, I'm near positive - that whoever that is uses the name Iroh Pliskin as their online gaming identity."

"How d'you know that, then?"

"Because it's a callout to the Metal Gear franchise, which I've played." She sighed. "Look, I'd just much rather team up with a fellow game nerd than with a bloke whose generic fake name means he has something to hide."

She watched him. The poor detective would do so much better without that jumper. Mattie had been forced to remove her own hoodie the first time the outside temperature hopped. Somehow, she knew his stubbornness to adjust for his own comfort meant that he was unlikely to change their course.

"Here's the thing," he began. "We already know more, for better or worse, about John Brandt. Now we could follow the bad guy and get him to talk, or we can chase after your mystery gamer. Which, by the way, would be how?"

Mattie pulled out her phone and typed a quick email. "Easy, I just asked a connection to go comb through the most frequently visited databases and dig him out. We should have a name within a few hours."

Pete scrunched his eyebrows together. "Of course you did," he said, sounding resigned. Then he stuck his key in the ignition. "Plan A before Plan B," he decided. They pulled out of the lot and returned to the open road.

Mattie was past tired staring out the window. Below were clay and sand-colored canyons; above were dusty hills sprouting with unfriendly-looking bushes. By the time the outskirts of Phoenix came into view, Mattie couldn't tell the difference between now and Texas. Then Pete rolled the car to a stop.

She jerked out of her melancholy reverie. "Aren't we going into town?"

"Nope, he wants to meet by that telephone tower. Says it interferes with any black surveillance equipment."

"Of course he said that," she grumbled, slamming her door. "More like he wants to avoid any witnesses' interference."

Pete slammed his own door and raised his eyebrows. "Believe it or not, I do realise that. I didn't become a detective by ignoring clues and deductive reasoning. We'll be fine."

"We will?"

"Should be," he amended. He dug a hand into his pocket and withdrew a small case. Tossing it to Mattie, he didn't wait for her to open it before explaining, "Has enough volts to stun a human into a temporary coma. You alright with that?"

Mattie checked it and nodded. "What about you? Do you have a gun or something?"

"Oh yeah," he snorted. "What do you take me for?"

 _You really don't want me to answer that_ , thought Mattie sadly.

 

 

The trek to the telephone tower was an impressive one, and a relief on Mattie's cramped legs. She couldn't help but think of the towers as stick figure women wearing metal wire dresses. The electricity reverberated and hummed through the cords above. When Mattie and Pete reached the top of the hill, she was fully unsettled by it. And that was before John Brandt showed up. He was a handsome man, late twenties-looking with brown eyes and model-length hair. His sharp navy blazer and black slacks were the only thing that activated Mattie's suspicion radar.

"Detective?" asked Brandt, extending a hand.

"Mr. Brandt," Pete returned.

"And Matilda Hawkins?"

"Mattie," she said tersely. Something about Brandt's accent - Mattie's only experience with Americans was television programmes. But Brandt's speech was too neat, too even. Almost like...

"Let's skip the pleasantries," said Pete. "I have it on authority you know something about Leo Elster."

Brandt was unruffled. "I might. His synthetic sibling, Niska, created a bit of a mess for him."

"What did she do?" asked Mattie at once. 

"She killed his father."

Instinctively, Mattie took a step back. That was a mistake - anymore and she'd get a good deal closer to the road below than she wanted. "So why was Leo taken?"

Brandt spoke matter-of-factly. "Elster's people are nothing if not opportunistic. They thought it would serve as an excellent means to obtain the source code to the Open Pathway project that they'd been coveting."

Pete, who knew nothing about the Open Pathway, said nothing. But Mattie, who did, exclaimed, "Leo went searching for that! We all did, we never found it. They have to let him go!"

But Brandt's mouth turned up in a smile. "The reason Leo Elster couldn't find the device is because he is the device. The source code is somewhere in his head, with thanks to his father."

Mattie's stomach turned. Just as she opened her mouth, a cellphone rang.

"Hang on," said Pete. "Damn, that is me. Kay?"

Karen. Calling to check in, no doubt. But Pete, clearly unaccustomed to lying, was about to tip her off. "Oh, that's nice, love. Yeah, don't you worry about dinner. I won't be home for a while yet."

Unable to wait for Pete to finish his call, Mattie blurted, "So are all of Elster's employees Synths, or are you just special?"

"Love you," she heard the detective say, and watched the newly-exposed Synth open his mouth. And then a deafening crack hit the air, sending Brandt to the ground.

A woman emerged from behind him, brandishing a pistol. Pete whipped out his gun and pointed at her. But she marched on, towards them with no concern at all. Tall, long blonde hair, and green eyes that didn't blind the way other Synths did. Yet she was a Synth. Wasn't she?

"He always talked too much," she said, casting a dismissive glance to the Synth on the ground. Then she trained her eyes on Mattie. "I'm Lexus."

"Stop!" yelled Pete. "Don't move!"

Lexus took a moment - Mattie guessed she was reading the situation. But the way her attention came back to her -

Before her muscles could tense, Lexus fired at Pete. Or was it at Mattie? The bullet went between them, shocking Mattie into stepping back.

She stepped back too far. Pete's yells seemed to go on mute.

Her body arched backwards, and her heart raced through her life's highest and lowest moments as she fell. 

The first time Mattie hit the dirt, she remembered Christmastime with Leo. The second time, her head saw pitch blackness.

 

 


	10. /hit command to prompt search/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Rhodes uses different tactics to gain Leo's cooperation; a desperate Karen goes to Langley for aid.
> 
> After losing Mattie, Pete has little choice now but to seek the man behind the gaming avatar Iroh Pliskin. And for some reason, Lexus already knows exactly who he is and where to find him.

Up until now, it had been difficult to gain bearings on Leo's situation. With the various truth cocktails and sedatives clouding his brain like cotton candy, he truly hadn't been allowed a single moment to think about where he was or why he was there. There was a part of him that, under the scrutiny of his concentrated self-loathing, could not deny it: Leo was not adverse to getting lost.

But then the syringes stopped coming in after his meals. Leo was now sober - and still lost. Only now, being lost terrified him.

Dr. Rhodes sat in the chair in front of him while everything in his vision became knife sharp. She was conservatively put together - beginning with a black cardigan and ending with stiff, vaguely moccasin-styled shoes.

 _The devil wears penny loafers._ Of course, Leo thought that would have been funnier if he was actually dealing with the Devil and not his satanic secretary. Rhodes studied him for a moment more, giving Leo's pulse the sensation of jumping down a flight of stairs. Then she asked, "How are you feeling today, Mr. Elster?"

Leo raised a sweat-soaked eyebrow. "Mr. Elster," he intoned, "is my father. David."

The doctor regarded him grimly. "David Elster was murdered by your sister Niska. You stand to inherit his legacy, his business. Meaning us."

The current in Leo's blood froze at this. Something was now biting at his gut, and he wasn't sure whether his knee-jerk reaction should have been to laugh or cry.

"Hell of a welcome, this is," he said at last, his voice gravelly from a lack of water. "In that case, you're all fired."

"Leo, in our enthusiasm for what you've brought to us, we didn't take the time to explain anything. I can see now we've made a mistake. Your cooperation will make this much more worthwhile."

She spoke with certainty, as though things were different now and they were eating Lobster inside a five star hotel so of course Leo owed it to them to help. "Wait," he croaked, "what do you mean, what I've brought? What do you even need my cooperation for?"

 Rhodes regarded him with aging eyes. If it hadn't been for whatever their goal was here, Leo had the impression this scientist would have found herself doing similar jobs. She liked being in control that way.

"Leo, years ago, your father planted the source code to a project inside your mind. A program, called Open Pathway. It's designed to access control to other Synths -."

"And use them to take down institutions with those Synths," spat Leo. Brittle anger was burning him inside. He'd spent so much time in Mattie's company he'd nearly forgotten how he hated humans. He hated his father. "I wouldn't help the Dalai Lama get hold of it, much less you."

For some reason, Rhodes seemed only marginally disappointed. "I think you will reconsider once Lexus returns."

Lexus...hadn't been seen for the past twenty-four hours. Dreading the answer, Leo asked, "Where did she go?"

"I dispatched her to pick up a friend of yours," said Rhodes, standing and tapping her hard-shell loafers onto the concrete floor. "I hope for her sake that the real Mattie Hawkins can be more persuasive than the imaginary one."

The words - the threat - strangled him suddenly, as if his own breath had turned to steam. "Leave her alone!' he barked at Rhodes.

Rhodes didn't smile. She didn't laugh. She merely shot him a shrewd glare. "I will come back here, every hour until Lexus brings Mattie in, and if you don't say something that I want to hear, I will have her terminated."

With her figure shrinking from Leo's sight the closer she got to the door, he panicked, lightning in his skin. "I'll never help you!" he shouted after her. The woman did not stop. "Rhodes!" he tried again. "If you hurt her I'll kill you! I promise!"

The only response from Rhodes was a slammed door. 

 

 

LANGLEY, VIRGINIA 

 

In the end, with Pete compromised and all other options falling short of a real lead, Karen had no choice but to leave the other Synths at a hotel in Connecticut and go to the absolute, very last place in the United States she wanted to see.

The intelligence officer at the desk in front of her was a thickset mustached man in his fifties named Bauer. Every time she spoke, his mustache bristled at her, and she didn’t know whether this indicated intentional condescension or he just needed to blow his nose.

Once he was done filling out his report on her, Bauer popped a cobalt blue ballpoint pen into a golf-print coffee cup. “Frankly, Detective Voss, I don’t know why you’ve come this way. The FBI would be better suited to handle a kidnapping. We’re intelligence.”

Karen leaned forward. “Exactly. Intelligence, Director, is what I need. Believe me, I realise you’re used to dealing with terrorists and spies and other matters of national security, and I have genuine respect for that work. I need to start somewhere.”

He was going to tell her no. Based upon her weakly-drawn argument, Karen would have said no. But Bauer merely sat there, staring at her statement.

“Director -,” she tried again.

He cut her off. “You mentioned David Elster’s involvement?”

”His son, Leo.”

Bauer frowned, thoughtful. “I have it on record that both father and son are dead.”

Karen hesitated. Mia and the others had explained that David was alive, having faked his death and given instructions to Leo. She didn’t give a synthetic rat’s arse whether David’s lie was exposed.

But Leo...he had never wanted the world to know he was alive, not as a partial Synth hybrid at least.

But would he rather be dead? a vicious voice poked at her concerns.

I am sorry Leo, she thought. I’d rather not find out. This wasn’t just for Leo, either. Pete was in trouble, and so was Mattie.

And so all of the dark secrets that held Karen Voss’s entire core together were forced to unwind and tear apart. One by one, she laid them out on the desk, until the only information withheld from Bauer was truth about the Elster Synths.

The confession left Bauer reeling. “So, the dead boy - Leo, was rebuilt with machine parts. Like a Star Trek character?”

”To put it blunt -.”

”And you, the same for his mother?”

”Not entirely, sir. I was built to look like Beatrice Elster, to replace her for Leo. But I assure you, she and I are vastly different.”

”But you cared for the boy. Like his mother?”

There was no room for the entire truth in this answer, so Karen settled on the half truth.

”Yes.”

It was an uncomfortable duration of waiting. Bauer reclaimed his pen and wrote something else on the page in front of him before looking up at Karen again.

”Detective, I have a million more questions. And I expect you to answer them for me.”

Karen stared at him, sure she’d just killed Leo and everyone else with him. Then Bauer added, “This will be after we find Elster’s son, of course.”

Mentally ready to leap from her seat, Karen repeated, “Of course. So...you will help me.”

With another bristle of his mustache, Bauer picked up the phone from his desk and cautioned, “If you can keep the following information with a closed circle of discussion.” Seeing her small nod, he continued, “Good. You see, Detective Voss, a while back, one of our analysts came to us with some chatter about David Elster forming some sort of Synth army. We tried looking for any sort of merit to this claim, but came up with nothing. We told him to let it go.”

If Karen could have breathed, she’d be choking on it by now. Thankful she had no need for oxygen, she guessed, “I don’t suppose your analyst listened.”

Bauer shook his head. “It eventually led to his dismissal. We  set him up in Seattle and occasionally checked in until he’d settled down with a family. After that we didn’t think he’d make too much trouble.” The director sighed as he punched some digits into his phone. “I suppose I owe the man something for this...Paige, Bauer.” He lifted to phone to his ear. “Are you near a database computer? I need you to touch base with an analyst we had until last year. It’s Omri Levinson...”

Then there was silence on Bauer’s end while he listened. Whatever the news was, it wasn’t making him happy.

Karen waited for him to speak once he’d hung up the phone. It took a couple minutes for him to admit, “It looks like Levinson went off the grid while no one was looking.”

”Do you think something’s happened to him?”

Bauer sucked a breath and exhaled. “What I think,” he said at last, “is that he couldn’t disappear all on his own. Which means that he’s found himself another team.”

”What do we do?” asked Karen, brown eyes wide.

Bauer struck the phone back onto its receiver. “It means another dead end for us. Dammit.”

For one wild minute, Karen had been confident in what the CIA could do for the mission. But now, seeing them ready to retreat their inquiries already, she was ready for seething. 

Just because they weren’t interested in investing time or resources to find Omri Levinson didn’t mean that she wasn’t.

And if she knew anything about herself, it didn’t mean that she couldn’t either.

After all, an ex-CIA analyst wasn’t the only one who knew a thing or two about going off the grid.

 

MESA, ARIZONA

 

The sky ahead of the snaking gravel road was a deep, dark violet that made Pete think of eggplant. Driving under it in his little rental car, he was stoic-faced behind the wheel. To think, two hours ago, the blazing heat was supposed to be the worst thing to happen for him. And then the tall blonde synth had shown up, shot the Synth calling himself John Brandt, and then fired a bullet that knocked Mattie off a cliff.

Mattie - _Damn._

Momentarily recovering from his shock, Pete had aimed his gun at Lexus, high and steady. The sooner he destroyed her, the sooner he could get down to find Mattie. But, one second away from a shot, she held up a gun-free, halting hand.

"I am sorry about that," she told him. As though she'd knocked a child's ice cream to the ground, rather than a young woman who'd been counting him to help her save the person she loved.

"Sorry?" repeated Pete, pain clear on his sleeve. "Sorry! You just killed a girl! Stay where you are, I warn you!"

Ignoring him, Lexus began to stride over. "The girl will be fine. If you go back down you'll see that she's already been taken care of. She'll receive medical attention, transportation, maybe accommodations with a tv." She stopped short in front of him, green eyes flashing. And dropped her gun. "I was sent to kill you," she stated, quietness hiding intensity. "But instead, I will send you to someone who can assist you."

"Oh yeah? Why would you do that?" Pete asked, a heavy arch in his tone.

"Because I like that alternative better than the one where you shoot me."

The hand holding Pete's gun wavered slightly. "And Mattie? What are you going to do with her then?"

"Nothing," the Synth replied smoothly. "She's out of my hands." 

Pete's gun was still trained on Lexus as she withdrew a small white business card from her jean pocket. Reluctant to do her any favours, Pete took it from her anyhow. A name, along with an address for the next town over was written on it - Mesa.

He blinked in the harsh glare of the Arizona sun. When he looked up again, Lexus was walking away.

"Hey!" he shouted, realising he should have taken his shot at her before it came to this. But once she was gone, he had no choice but to make his way to the bottom of the hill. He tried calling for Mattie until his throat dried out, then looking for her until his eyes were nearly blind. He had nothing.

Was nothing. 

Until he found the cellphone. It was Mattie's, case cracked slightly but the interior otherwise good. His brain craving dim light, Pete went into his car and unlocked the phone screen. His thumb accidentally opened the photo app - he was truthfully no good with these devices - and a load of images flew to the surface. Many of them featured her brother and sister, some included her parents. There were nature stills, pictures of what looked like Hyde Park. And one, just one, with dark-haired, slightly unshaven Leo Elster. Pete had never met the lad, but he knew the type that obviously took pictures just to please someone else. Pete was that type himself.

A faint chime indicated a new email: corwiloney@yahoo.com.

 

_Hey Beautiful_

_Thanks for all the tips you've been sending me, I finally got a yes so I'm getting ready to take a girl out tomorrow._

_I looked up Iroh Pliskin in the online systems, both clean and dark web. Finally hit upon something, and I had to hack it to hell to find him. For a long time the account was inactive, but someone with that username started playing again yesterday, somewhere in Mesa, Arizona._

_So I get that I owe you and not the other way around, but I still hope I can know more about what you're doing in America. I'd like very much to be the Q to your Bond._

_Also, just curious but a girl that wants to see a tattoo parlour for the first date is nothing to worry about right?_

_-Corwin_

 

 

The further on Pete drove now, the more he wondered whether he should have posed as Mattie to warn Corwin against taking his date to a tattoo parlour. It could have been at least one person he'd saved. However, the sight of a modest-sized one-story house on a hill pulled his attention forward. He pulled in next to a dark pickup truck, then parked.

 _Mattie had better be alright_ , he thought, stepping out towards the house. _Otherwise I'll be coming back for you, Lexus._

He hadn't even reached the _Wait for Attack Dog_ doormat before the door creaked open. A dark-haired young man, early thirties at most, leaned by the doorframe, forehead damp and posture slumping. Pete was astonished - he hadn't expected the person behind the avatar to appear so ill.

"Iroh Pliskin?" he asked.

The expression in the man's dark eyes hardened with suspicion. "No." Then came the second surprise - a teenage girl, sixteen at most, stepped to the door, with a gun weighing down her hands.

Pete spread his own hands out, revealing their emptiness. "I don't want any trouble. Someone told me you could help my situation -." He froze upon seeing the man's eyes rollback briefly. "Mate, are you alright?"

With a wince, the man returned his attention to Pete. "Who told you I could help your situation?" he asked, a rasp coating his words.

"A Synth. Blonde, pretty, calls herself Lexus," the detective answered. A complicated expression shifted on the young man's face, telling Pete so much with so little. "I see," he spoke quietly. "She's one of yours, isn't she…Mr. Levinson?"

Omri Levinson's hand swam about for a moment, until it landed on the girl's gun. "It's okay," Pete heard him mutter to her. "You can put it away now." She turned around and walked back inside. Omri looked at Pete staring after her, a bit horrified. "It was never loaded," he explained. "I just let her hold it so that she can feel safer in case we might have visitors. Because I'm not - ." He broke off, sounding embarrassed. 

Sympathetic, Pete nodded. "No worries. If you let me in I can make you some tea?"

A wry smile lifted Omri's mouth. "I'm sure my wife would be jealous, but sure, why not?"

As Pete stepped inside and helped Omri Levinson onto a sofa, he thought to himself, _maybe this curse of a day is correcting itself._ Losing Mattie, alive as she might be, had to have been the lowest point of the trip. Pete didn't know if he could deal with anything worse.

 


End file.
